


Miss Missing You

by NightAuthor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hannah's a little OOC, How Do I Tag, Like insanely AU, Not a Ron Fan, On Hiatus, Oops, So's Everyone, Time Travel, Young!Sirius, clearly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightAuthor/pseuds/NightAuthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the Twentieth anniversary of Lily and James Potters deaths, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny pay a visit to Godric's Hollow, where they meet someone they had thought long dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Panic

Hermione shivered. She shuffled past a group of trick-or-treaters, smiling at their pointed hats, and rejoined her friends.  
  
“Are you sure you want to do this, Harry?” Ginny spoke quietly, but Hermione could just hear her.  
  
Harry smiled at his wife, albeit a little distantly. “I’m sure.” Slowly, his smile faded as they approached the ruined house. Once they were a house away, Hermione caught Ron’s arm and pulled him to a stop.  
  
“Her—”  
  
“Shush!” The brunette watched as Harry and Ginny read the plaque before heading inside. “He doesn't need us hovering.”  
  
Ron scowled. “We’re his friends, ’Mione.”  
  
Shaking her head, Hermione took a deep breath before responding. “We’re his friends, but this is his family, and it’s hard enough on him without having to keep a brave face.”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘brave face’? We know all about this stuff.”  
  
“Yes, but it’s—” Hermione growled as Ron’s face settled into the familiar, stubborn set.  
  
Her next words were cut off by a deafening _crack! _A flash of light blinded her for a moment and she pulled out her wand, ready for whatever was attacking them. Beside her, she felt Ron’s arm move as he did the same.__  
  
“ **PETER**!”  
  
“ _Who is that?_ ” Ron hissed, trying to push her behind him.  
  
“ _I don’t know, Ronald, perhaps if you got out of my way—_ ” She trailed off as her vision cleared, the night seeming even darker than before. The source of the shouting was a young man, about their age, staggering to his feet with his wand held tightly. Glancing at the muggles around them, Hermione cast a few quick spells to hide the commotion.  
  
“ **PETER! WHERE ARE YOU? YOU FIL** THY— WHere—” The man stumbled slightly, turning to face the two Gryffindors. Ron swore and raised his wand. Hermione grabbed his wrist on instinct, jerking it up to fire harmlessly into the air. Faintly, she heard Harry and Ginny come out of the house behind them.  
  
“Hermione, that’s Sirius Black!”  
  
“I know, Ron!”  
  
Black looked dazed as he turned to fully face them, still off-balance. As Harry and Ginny joined them, wands at the ready, Black’s eyes widened. “James? Lily?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the pain in it was unmistakeable. “How— How are you alive, I saw you…” He fell to his knees, still mumbling, without taking his eyes off of Harry. “You were— And He-Wh— and Harry was…” His head dropped to his chest as his grip on his wand loosened and it fell to the pavement beside him.  
  
Hermione grabbed Ron’s arm again as he tried to step forward, and used his momentum to spin him toward his sister. “I’m sorry, Harry, but take him, please?” Looking at the fresh tear tracks on his face, she faltered slightly.  
  
Harry shook his head. “No, I should—”  
  
“You should go.” Hermione met Ginny’s gaze just long enough for the redhead to nod. Encouraged, Hermione continued a little more boldly. “I’ll deal with this. You and Ron and Ginny, go to the church without me. I’ll meet you there when I can.” When Harry still looked unsure, she sighed. “I can handle myself, even if I’m not an Auror. Does he really seem dangerous to you?” She and Harry both glanced at Black, who was now looking between the Potters, the house, and the buildings around them with a bewildered expression. Meeting Harry’s eyes again, she pushed him slightly. “Go.”  
  
Hermione waited until the three of them were halfway to the church before turning back to the man behind her. His eyes were unfocused, but he met her gaze as best he could.  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
As she knelt in front of him, she sighed. His voice was shaky, although refined, and now that she was closer, she could see a few tears beginning to well up in the dark eyes. “My name is Hermione Granger.” Watching him closely, she asked, “Do you know where you are?”  
  
“Godric’s Hollow, but—” He looked at the houses and muggles walking obliviously around them. “It’s all different.” Hermione looked around with him, and noticed Harry, Ron, and Ginny standing at the gate next to the church, watching them. “I don’t understand.”  
  
With a small amount of trepidation, she turned back to face Black. “There’s rather a lot to explain, and I want to help, but,” She took a steadying breath. “My friends are worried you’re going to hurt me.” He frowned slightly at that, but his right hand moved away from his wand, closer to his knee. “Will you let me hold on to your wand while we talk?” Hermione held her breath as she watched him.  
  
He shook his head slightly, but although the furrow between his brows deepened a little, his voice was no louder or rougher than before. “N— No, I have to find Peter,” His voice broke on Peter’s name and he shook his head again, dropping it so that she couldn't see his face. “I have to— to—”  
  
“Peter isn’t here.” His head jerked up to meet her eyes, desperation burning in his expression. She spoke carefully, keeping her tone even. “As I said, there’s a lot to explain, and to be honest, I’m not sure where to begin, but I can promise you, Peter is not here.” He let out a breath, expression clearing somewhat, but Hermione couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved. Feeling her friends watch her, she stayed still.  
  
As his head dropped again, long hair falling to hide his face, she didn't move. For a minute, neither did he. Slowly, his right hand dropped to the ground, skating back to his wand. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry hold Ron back. When she focused again on the man in front of her, she saw his wand pointed at her and almost grabbed her own. But his hair still hid his face, and she realized that he was holding it so that the handle was toward her. Trying not to startle him, she took the wand carefully. As she did so, her fingers brushed against his, and she realized that they were hardly warmer than the wood. Pulling out her bag, she stashed his wand in the back pocket of her jeans and sent a quick accio mittens into the depths of the purse. A black-and-orange chevroned pair popped out. She glanced at his long fingers and silently enlarged the gloves. He took them hesitantly, and she took the opportunity to place his wand in a pocket just inside the lip of her bag.  
  
“Thank you.” His voice was quiet, but she could still recognize his tone. In her first year, when Harry received his presents or if she saved him a seat on the train, he would often sound confused. When she had asked him about it a few years ago, he had said that at the time, kindness was never expected. She heard that tone more rarely as the years went by, but he still had it occasionally. Now she heard the same confusion, faint suspicion, and hesitant gratitude in Sirius Black’s voice.  
  
“You’re welcome.” She watched as he clasped his mittened hands together, but he didn't shiver. Hermione frowned, and when she met his distinctly glassy eyes, her frown deepened. “I think we should get out of the cold.” When she extended her hand toward him, he stared blankly at it for a few moments before taking it gingerly. She stood, tugging him up with her. Now that he was standing, she could see that he was a head taller than her and, although he was thin, seemed to be surprisingly strong. On an impulse, she held on to his hand. “I know somewhere we can talk. Will you let me take you there?” The chatter of muggles around them intensified as a pack of children headed past, but she didn’t take her eyes off of his. Cautiously, he nodded. Hermione smiled and, with a quick twist, Apparated them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to make this chapter a little bit longer, but this was too good a stopping point. :) Also, when I say AU, I mean it. I'll go into detail in the next part, but main point is that Sirius disappeared the same night as Peter Pettigrew. The public as a whole still thinks that Sirius killed all those people, they just think that he killed himself too. This is unbeta'd, so if you notice anything wrong, please let me know!


	2. No, Not Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reluctantly, Hermione fills Sirius in on what, and who, he missed.

Sirius fell against the brick wall as they arrived and looked around the grubby alley. “Where are we?”

“Just behind the Leaky Cauldron.” As she dusted off her pants, Hermione strode to the door. “A friend of mine from school inherited it a few months ago.” Sirius pushed off the wall and felt a wave of nausea sweep over him. While Hermione knocked, he stood perfectly still and waited for the garbage to stop spinning.

“Who’s th— Hermione?” At the sound of the unfamiliar man’s voice, Sirius’ head shot up, or tried to. As soon as he moved, pain stabbed behind his eyes and he screwed them shut.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione’s voice was surprised, but sounded somewhat amused at something.

“I— um, well, why are you here?” The man’s voice sharpened. “And who’s he?” Gradually, Sirius opened his eyes and let them adjust to the light. A vague silhouette in the doorway solidified into a tall figure, his dark hair ruffled in patterns Sirius remembered seeing on James when he and Lily had just begun to see each other. The thought of the Potters took Sirius’s breath away as he fought not to remember seeing them in that house. But he had seen them just a few minutes ago, but Hermione had called them Harry and… Ginny, that was the name. But that was impossible, he had seen— seen— 

Hermione’s voice snapped him out of the cycle and he latched onto it gratefully. “He’s…” She was looking at him, eyes wide, and Sirius could almost see the story pop into her head before she turned back to the man, smiling sweetly. “He’s Harry’s cousin. Distant, on his father’s side. Only got in touch a few months ago, but he was going to meet us in Godric’s Hollow,”

“For the anniversary?” The man’s expression was no less suspicious as he interrupted her, but his stance relaxed a fraction.

“Yes, that’s right.” From his angle, Sirius could only see her profile, but her smile seemed to grow a little bittersweet. “I’m sure you understand how hard it’s been on Harry, but finding some family seemed to help somewhat. Anyway, he,” She waved in Sirius’ direction, “was supposed to meet us there, but he had a rough landing when he Apparated in, and I’m worried he has a concussion. We’re here to see if Hannah could take a look.” 

Shadowed by the light spilling out behind him, Sirius couldn’t see the man’s eyes. Even so, he had the distinct impression that he was being sized up. Old instincts kicking in, Sirius stayed still; he didn’t challenge the man by straightening to his full height, but neither did he cower. He simply waited with Hermione for the man to reach a verdict. After a few more seconds, the man nodded, moving inside and motioning for them to follow.

Hermione turned to him with a gentle smile, then chuckled. “I hadn’t noticed your shirt.” Sirius glanced down as she went inside. He’d forgotten how this shirt had faded. It had been ten years old when he bought it, and the print had still been legible then, but now all that was barely visible was the lightning bolt above two vaguely circular shapes. He followed her in slowly, supporting himself on doorways and chairs whenever things got a little too blurry.

“Neville? What’s going on?” Squinting against the light, Sirius saw a woman with long blonde hair sitting at a bar. Getting up quickly, she helped Sirius over to a seat and gently brushed his hair out of his face. He winced as the light hit his eyes and hissed softly as her fingers ran across a sore spot on his temple.

“He’s Harry’s cousin. Hermione thinks he might have a concussion.” The woman, who Sirius supposed must be Hannah, nodded at this, turning Sirius’ head and looking at his eyes thoughtfully.

“Hermione, you do know I’m only in training?” Hannah’s voice warbled on the last few words.

Hermione scoffed. “Hannah, Neville never stops talking about how well you’re doing at St. Mungo’s, and he said you were in the Emergency Ward for months.” Her voice softened, and Sirius saw her hand rest on Hannah’s arm for a moment. “All I’m asking is that you check if he needs more treatment, or if he just needs rest. Although,” Sirius could hear a smile in her voice as she spoke, and felt his mouth quirk up at how much she sounded like Remus. “I was hoping that if he does need rest, we could stay here for a while. It’s a fair bit quieter than anywhere else tonight.” Hannah hummed noncommittally, but Sirius could see her smile, too.

Pulling out her wand, she waved it above Sirius’ head a few times, manipulating a spell he couldn't see. “Can you tell me the date?” She glanced at him for a moment before returning to her work.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Hallowe’en.”

She smiled. “And your name?”

His name. Hermione had lied, said he was Harry’s cousin. Harry was the one who looked like James, wasn't he? “… Reg Potter.” Hermione exhaled slowly. Sirius turned his head just enough to see her out of the corner of his eye. She looked stunned, albeit impressed. 

Hannah cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her. “I think you do have a concussion, but you should be fine if you rest, and yes, Hermione, you can stay here.” She stepped back. Sirius moved so that he could see the others, leaning back and resting his elbows on the bar. Neville was staring at him, arms crossed, but Sirius ignored him easily. The headache that was just beginning to resonate behind his temples was a little more insistent. “I think I remember a potion that should help. Hermione, help me find it?”

The two women left through a doorway on the other side of the room. Neville was still staring at Sirius. “Harry doesn't have any cousins.” 

“I didn’t think I had any, either.” As the headache grew a fraction, Sirius pulled off his mittens and pressed his cool fingers to his forehead. “I was as surprised to find him as he was to find me.” Neville scoffed, but said nothing, instead watching Sirius intently. The two of them waited in silence for several minutes, during which time Sirius’ headache thankfully abated slightly. He heard Hermione’s voice first, although he couldn't make out the words, and Hannah laughed as they came in. Neville shifted his weight toward the door, eyes crinkling. As Sirius saw the way he and Hannah relaxed around each other, he had to blink away tears. James and Lily…

“Come along, Neville. Bye Hermione!” Hannah took Neville’s hand and led him back the way she and Hermione had come, and waved back to Hermione and Sirius as she went.

Smiling, Hermione walked behind the bar and set a vial in front of Sirius. “There still isn't a cure, per se, for concussion, but this does speed things up significantly.” He turned to face her and picked up the vial cautiously. Hermione nodded at him. “Go on and drink it.” As he lifted it up to the light, she filled a glass with water and set that in front of him as well. “That probably won’t taste very good, so you’ll want to drink it quickly and wash it down.” With a faint smirk, Sirius raised the potion to her, then downed it swiftly. Hermione laughed as he began to cough, looking horrified. Frantically, he gulped at the water as Hermione filled another glass for him. When she turned back, her face seemed strained, and although she smiled, it was stiff. 

Sirius drank his second glass in silence as she bustled around, tidying up. “What’s going on?” 

“Well, there’s rather a lot to explain, as I said before, and I think it might be best to wait until after you’ve rested.” She was avoiding his eyes. As his headache faded, he had to suppress an annoyingly canine impulse to growl, or whine, or chew on something. 

“Hermione.” She froze. Slowly, she turned to face him. “Please, tell me.” Sirius began to twitch his foot against the barstool as he watched her think. 

After a few seconds, she raised her eyes to his and nodded decisively. “Go sit by the fire; I’ll join you in just a moment.” Sirius watched as she began to rummage through the cupboards and shelves behind the bar. Belatedly, he moved to the hearth and sat at a table in front of the flames. “Hannah said they still had some… See, Harry and Neville share a birthday, and this year we had the party here, and— ah!” She straightened, holding up a bottle of Butterbeer. Pointing her wand at two empty glasses, she levitated them to the table while she filled another with water. “Hannah said that one glass of Butterbeer to warm you up was fine, so long as you drank it slowly and stayed hydrated.” Setting the water and bottle on the table, she sat across from Sirius with a sober expression.”And to forewarn you, I’m not letting you have anything stronger.” 

Sirius shifted in his chair as he recognized the intent look in her eyes. She sighed. “Today’s date is October thirty-first, two thousand and sixteen.” 

Sirius blinked. “No, that—” He swallowed, shook his head. “That’s not—” He thought over the night, of how different Godric’s Hollow was, of how much Hermione’s friend Harry looked like James… “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but somehow it must be.” Moving the empty glasses towards her, Hermione poured out the Butterbeer. “Tonight is the twentieth anniversary of the deaths of James and Lily Potter, and of the first fall of Voldemort.” At the names, Sirius flinched enough to jostle the table, sloshing water onto the wood. He tried to steady his breathing as Hermione continued softly. “That’s why we were in Godric’s Hollow tonight—”

“First?” Sighing again, Hermione looked toward the fire as Sirius tried and failed to keep his voice from shaking. “You said the first fall?” When she still wouldn’t meet his eyes, Sirius clenched his jaw, blinking desperately. “Tell me.” His voice cracked embarrassingly, but it served its purpose. Finally, Hermione turned back to him. “I need to know.” 

Leaning forward slightly, she slid the glass of water closer to Sirius and picked up her Butterbeer. “Have you ever heard of a Horcrux?” He shook his head as he sipped his water, frowning a little at the change of subject. She nodded pensively. “A Horcrux is an object, any object, really, that’s been enchanted or spelled somehow; I don’t know how and I never want to, that can hold a portion of a wizard or witch’s soul.” Gulping her drink, she held up her hand to silence Sirius’ questions. “By that night, and I believe for several years by your count, Voldemort had created five Horcruxes.

“One’s soul is split through murder, and that night, Voldemort intended to use Harry’s death, the death of his prophesied doom, to form his sixth and final Horcrux.” Sirius felt as though he couldn't breathe. As soon as she had said Harry’s name, he had been struck by a thousand memories of playing with his godson, watching him while James and Lily cooked dinner, a few nights of sneaking onto the roof and pointing out constellations to Harry while Lily and Prongs ran around like decapitated chickens. The thought of Harry dead… 

“It didn't work, obviously. You saw Harry yourself, didn't you?” Nodding, Sirius pulled himself out of his memories to instead focus on the woman in front of him. “According to Dumbledore, Harry was protected by Lily’s sacrifice, and I’m not sure that was accurate, but whatever the reason, when Voldemort used the Killing Curse, it rebounded off of Harry and struck Voldemort instead.” Sirius picked up his Butterbeer as she spoke. Her tone was analytical, neither sympathetic nor blunt, and Sirius latched on to it like a lifeline. “Because of his Horcruxes, Voldemort didn’t die, but he was weakened drastically, enough that it was ten years before he could try and return.” 

“Ten years…” Sirius had spoken softly, but Hermione waited anyway. “Harry was in school?”

She nodded. “It was our first year. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was helping Voldemort, who intended to use the Philosopher’s Stone to regain corporeal form, but Harry, Ron, and I stopped him. It was mostly Harry, although Ron and I helped. Voldemort wasn't able to come back, but he was stronger. 

“In our second year, we found our first Horcrux. Well, really, Ron’s sister, Ginny, found it. That was her first year at Hogwarts. She was the one standing next to Harry tonight, the redhead.” She paused to take another sip of Butterbeer. “Horcruxes can affect those who are near them. This Horcrux was a diary, from when Voldemort was in school. Ginny held onto it for the better part of a year, even tried to destroy it, but it controlled her. It tried to kill a few people, but never succeeded. Eventually, Harry was able to destroy it and save Ginny, although it was close. Our third year was fairly uneventful, comparatively.” As the two of them sat listening to the fire, Sirius watched a variety of expressions cross Hermione’s face, primarily apprehension. When she did speak after several minutes, her voice was hesitant.

“Earlier, you were yelling for someone named Peter. That was Peter Pettigrew, wasn't it?” Sirius nodded, not trusting his voice. “Just before you appeared in Godric’s Hollow, what were you doing?”

“I… I found Peter. We were in the street, and he yelled… I don’t remember. Something about ‘my fault’. The next thing I remember is seeing you and your friends.” 

She nodded thoughtfully. “According to the official report, Peter confronted you in a Muggle street, shouted that it was your fault Voldemort had found the Potters, and then there was a huge explosion. When the dust had cleared, twelve Muggles were dead, you were gone, leaving no evidence how or why you disappeared, and all that was left of Peter was a single finger.” As she continued, Sirius fought to stifle the laugh building in his chest. “The assumption was that you had killed them all and died in the process. However, Peter lived.” The laugh abruptly died. A cold numbness replaced it, and Sirius returned to nursing his Butterbeer in an effort to focus on the story. Hermione glanced down at Sirius’ hands clenched around his glass.

“Just before school that year, I bought Crookshanks. He’s a cat, and absolutely lovely, no matter what Ron and Harry say. He’s also very intelligent. At the time, Ron had a pet rat, called Scabbers. His family had owned him for years, passing him down whenever one of the boys began school. Crookshanks never liked him very much. Then, one night, a few months into school, Ron found blood on his sheets and Scabbers missing. He was convinced that Crookshanks killed him, and we barely spoke until he found Scabbers again. 

“Toward the end of the year, Scabbers ran away again. Crookshanks chased him, Ron took off after Crookshanks, and Harry and I followed Ron. Scabbers ran under the Whomping Willow, and Crookshanks was able to hit the knot that stops it, but Ron was close enough behind them that the Willow hit him before it froze. He insisted on going after Scabbers to make sure Crookshanks didn't kill him. Harry and I helped him, and the three of us managed to trap our pets. 

“Professor Lupin was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts that year.” She smiled softly, although Sirius couldn't tell whether it was fond or sympathetic.

“Do… Do you mean Remus Lupin?” 

Eyes bright, her smile widened. “He was the best DADA teacher we had the entire time we were in school,” she said proudly. “Except perhaps Harry, but I’ll get to that in a few minutes.” Waving off his questions, she refilled her glass of Butterbeer and continued. “Two of Ron’s brothers had found your map—”

“The Marauder’s Map?” Sirius straightened in his chair with a grin. The Map had been at least involved in, if not the cause of most of his fond memories of Hogwarts.

Hermione’s eyes twinkled at him. “Yes, and believe me, for the first few years, at least, the twins were almost always up to no good. But,” She laughed, “They handed it off to Harry in the middle of the year so that he could sneak out of the castle. Just before Scabbers ran away the second time, Professor Lupin caught Harry with the Map and confiscated it.”

Sirius interrupted her with a laugh. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he tried to explain. “I’m sorry, but I simply can’t imagine Moony as a teacher, certainly not the sort that would put a stop to harmless fun!”

With a smile, Hermione held up a hand. “He did have the most enjoyable classes in the school, but he was concerned about Harry. When Scabbers ran away, Professor Lupin happened to be looking at the Map, and he saw us running to the Shrieking Shack. He left the Map behind and came after us.” Taking a deep breath, she looked Sirius in the eye before continuing. “Part of why he was worried was that the Map didn't call Scabbers by that name.” The pattern of how she had changed the subject seemed to fall into place when Sirius realized how carefully she was speaking of Ron’s rat. “It—”

“Wormtail.” She blinked at Sirius’ interruption, but nodded. “They found a finger… He faked his death?” 

Again, she nodded. “And when he ran away the first time. He’d bitten himself to draw blood and gone into hiding. When Professor Lupin saw his name on the Map, he came running. He was able to trap Scabbers, Peter, so that there was no possible way to escape. That was when Professor Snape joined us.”

“Snape?” Sirius’ voice raised a few decibels as he jolted forward. “ _Snivellus?_ ”

Hermione frowned sternly. “ _Severus_ , yes. He taught Potions. Anyway,” She spoke over Sirius, “If you want to hear what happened…?” Meeting Sirius’ glare, she waited, chin held high. After a few moments, he deflated somewhat and she smirked faintly. “Professor Snape joined us and helped Professor Lupin magic Scabbers back to human. Ron was… unenthused to find out that his beloved rat was actually a grown, rather disgusting, man. Between the three adults, Harry, Ron, and I got a somewhat unbiased report of what all of you were like at school. And while they were talking, Peter confessed to spying for Voldemort, faking his death, and framing you. Even Professor Snape couldn't refute your innocence, although he tried. The two of them chained Peter and were going to take him to the authorities, but… Well, the reason Professor Snape was there was that he was bringing Professor Lupin his Potion.” At Sirius’ frown, she elaborated, “Wolfsbane Potion.”

Sirius inhaled sharply. “It was a full moon,” he breathed. “Were any of you hurt?”

Still seeming slightly stunned at Sirius’ spot-on speculation, Hermione gathered herself again. “No, Professor Snape protected us. But Peter escaped in the confusion and found Voldemort, somehow.” She appeared lost in thought for a moment, then took away Sirius’ Butterbeer and pushed the water toward him. When he moved to take his drink back, she wagged a finger at him with a glare. “No. Not until you drink at least one glass of water.” Grudgingly, he complied, and she cleared her throat. “Professor Lupin resigned a few days later. None of us were happy about it,” she said, forestalling Sirius’ exclamation, “But he was worried that if he stayed, he might forget his Potion again, and this time, hurt a student. He gave Harry the Map back, though.”

She began to speak again, but Sirius cut her off. “Well, what happened to him after that? Did he find work?” 

Sighing, she smiled tightly. “I don't really know. I didn't see him again for about a year, and then he was working with Dumbledore.”

“And then? Is he happy?” 

She hesitated a few moments before nodding. “He worked with Dumbledore for several years, and so did his wife.”

“Wife?” Sirius laughed delightedly. “Moony got married?”

For the first time, Hermione gave him a genuine smile. “Yes, to your cousin, actually. Nymphadora Tonks.”

“Andromeda’s girl.” Shaking his head with a grin, Sirius brushed away a few tears.

“Yes, but if you don’t let me continue, we’ll be here all night.” After Sirius waved for her to go on, still grinning, she cleared her throat. “The Triwizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts our fourth year, and Voldemort managed to manipulate it so that Harry was a Champion. When he and Cedric, the other Hogwarts Champion, touched the Triwizard Cup, it turned out to be a Portkey. It took them to where Peter and Voldemort were waiting. They killed Cedric.” Pausing, she looked into the flames with an inscrutable expression. “For most people, and especially the three of us, Cedric’s death was a turning point of sorts. We’d been fighting Voldemort for four years, but we’d hardly even been hurt.” After a few more seconds, she turned back to Sirius with a sober expression. “Peter used Harry’s blood to return Voldemort to his fully regenerated form. Harry and Voldemort fought, and Harry held on long enough to use the Portkey to take Cedric’s body back to Hogwarts.

“The Order of the Phoenix reformed that summer, preparing to fight Voldemort, while the Ministry, and public as a whole, denied that Harry was sane, let alone that he’d seen Voldemort with his own eyes. Our DADA teacher that year was horrid. She refused to teach us anything practical, and the Order were treating us like children, which we were, I suppose. But we were afraid. And we knew that we needed the skills to defend ourselves, so we formed Dumbledore’s Army, the D.A. for short. Harry taught, and did a brilliant job at it.” Sirius slid his hand across the table, but Hermione stopped him before he reached the Butterbeer. Pulling out her wand, she tapped his empty glass. “ _Aguamenti_.” She waited until he reluctantly leaned back in his chair and took the water before speaking. “Harry had been having dreams of Voldemort since… Well, actually, since before the Tournament, but they intensified once Voldemort had his body back. 

“Before Christmas, Harry had a vision and saw Voldemort, through one of his Horcruxes, attack Ron’s father, Arthur Weasley. Harry was able to raise the alarm, and Arthur was rushed to St. Mungo’s. He was almost fully recovered by the end of the year, which was when Harry had another vision.” Hermione refilled her glass and wiped at her cheeks. “He saw Arthur being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Neville, and I, as well as Luna, another girl in the D.A. traveled to the Ministry to rescue him, but it was a trick. A group of Death Eaters attacked us and the Order, including Arthur, joined the battle. And Bellatrix killed him.”

“Bel—” Sirius ran his fingers through his hair. “My cousin, Bellatrix?” Without waiting for a response, he scoffed, and leaned his chair onto the back two legs while he stared at the ceiling with a scowl. “Of course, my cousin. Honestly, I’m just surprised she wasn't thrown into Azkaban.”

“She was.” Sirius jerked his head up to meet her tear-filled eyes. “She, her husband, and two other Death Eaters were sentenced to life in Azkaban after they tortured Neville’s parents into insanity. They escaped.” Swallowing thickly, Sirius let his head fall back and his eyes close. 

After a few minutes, he realized Hermione had fallen silent. “Keep going.” When she didn't respond, he raised his head. She was watching him cautiously. Voice a little stronger, he repeated, “Keep going.” 

Sipping her drink, she kept her eyes on his until he let his head drop again. “After everything at the Department of Mysteries, Dumbledore told Harry, and then Harry told Ron and I, about Horcruxes.

“Before our sixth year, Dumbledore found another Horcrux. He tried to use it, before destroying it, and it cursed him.” Sirius felt a chill moving down his spine, stealing all the warmth from his body. “He survived, but there was no cure. After school had begun, he and Harry began  to look for Horcruxes, sort of.” With a frown, Sirius lifted his head and one, questioning brow. Hermione elaborated. “Despite the fact that they had the better part of a year to look, they only ever found one Horcrux, which turned out to be a fake. Lately, I’ve started to wonder if Dumbledore was teaching Harry how to find Horcruxes more than he was actually finding them. Dumbledore knew that he didn't have long, so…” She shrugged helplessly. “I haven't been able to get it out of my mind.

“At the end of the year, after they found the fake Horcrux, although they didn't realize it was fake, Dumbled—” her voice cracked as a few tears spilled out. Sirius set his chair on all four legs as she wiped her eyes. “Dumbledore died.” Wiping a few tears of his own away, Sirius moved to the chair next to hers. Refilling her glass, he raised his water in a silent toast. She smiled shakily, accepting the Butterbeer and joining the toast. With a sniff, she asked brightly, “What time is it?” 

Sirius shook his head. “It doesn't matter. What happened next?”

“It must be getting late.”

“Hermione, don’t change the subject.” A few more tears dropped before he could stop them, and his next words were more pleading than he had intended. “I need to know.” 

She bit her bottom lip as she blinked away tears. While Sirius sipped his water, she cleared her throat and, voice cracking, continued. “Harry, Ron, and I decided to find and destroy the rest of the Horcruxes, although we didn't begin until after Ron’s brother’s wedding. During the reception, Kingsley Shacklebolt sent a warning that Voldemort had taken control of the Ministry, and we ran. We stayed in Grimmauld Place, actually.” Sirius’ eyes widened. “Harry had given Dumbledore permission to use it as headquarters for the Order back at the end of fourth year, but Dumbledore was Secret-Keeper. When he died, the Order didn't think it was safe anymore, so no one was using it. While we were staying there, we found out that the person who had hidden the fake Horcrux was one Regulus Arcturus Black.” 

It took a few seconds for Sirius to process what he had heard. Once he had, a slow, wide, sad smile spread across his face. He opened his mouth to toast his brother, but all that came out was a strangled sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob. Screwing his eyes shut, he covered his face with one hand, wiping away his tears almost as quickly as they fell. He felt Hermione’s hand cover his on the table, but didn't move it. He could feel sobs bubbling in his chest, and clenched his jaw. When he nodded to Hermione, she sighed and squeezed his hand lightly.

“Voldemort had used Kreacher to hide the Horcrux, and tried to kill Kreacher, but he underestimated house-elves.” She sounded oddly proud as she spoke. “Kreacher escaped, and told Regulus what had happened. Regulus had Kreacher take him to the Horcrux, and gave his life retrieving it. Kreacher was under orders to take the locket back to Grimmauld Place and find a way to destroy it.” Her voice broke more times than Sirius could count while she spoke. When he opened his eyes, he saw the firelight reflect off of the tear stains on her face. After wiping his eyes one last time, he covered her hand with his. 

She continued, smiling gratefully. “He wasn't able to destroy it, but he protected it as best he could until it was _stolen_ ,” Her voice sharpened into a hiss on the last word, “By a _waste_ of a wizard called Mundungus Fletcher.” Sniffling, she tugged her hand out from between his, opened her bag, and whispered, “ _Accio tissues_.” A small box of paper tissues popped out and Hermione immediately took one and blew her nose. When she offered the box to Sirius, he took it and balanced it on his knee where she could reach it. As she spoke, he wiped his eyes and felt the pressure in his chest abate slightly. “It was taken from him by the same woman who had refused to teach us in our fifth year. Horcruxes, as I said, they affect people. This was a locket, it made people short-tempered, sour, and this woman was already so horrid, she didn't even notice.

“We took it back, but we weren't able to go back to Grimmauld Place. We kept moving every few weeks, trying to track down the other Horcruxes, and wearing the locket to keep it safe. Harry and I were unhappy, certainly, while we wore it, but it affected Ron much more. He’d changed since his father’s death, much angrier than he used to be, and the locket intensified that. Harry and I wore it much more often, but Ron was wearing it when we heard that Ginny was being punished, along with Neville and Luna, for trying to steal the sword of Godric Gryffindor.” Hermione’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper as she spoke, eyes distant. “He was furious. Harry and I tried to calm him down, but he stormed away after taking off the locket.” 

After a brief pause, she ripped a tissue out of the box, nearly unbalancing it from its perch. Sirius caught it as she roughly blew her nose again. “Anyway,” she balled up the used tissue and threw it in the fire, “While he was gone, Harry and I didn't get much done besides break Harry’s wand and almost get killed. After he came back, he and Harry destroyed the locket with Godric Gryffindor’s sword, which they pulled out of a frozen pond, don't ask,” Sirius shrugged, “and then, it didn't take long to track down most of the other Horcruxes. Finally, there were only three Horcruxes left. The only one we could find was at Hogwarts, and soon after we arrived there, Voldemort declared war on the school.

“Everyone fought him bravely, especially the D.A., and the sixth Horcrux was destroyed.” She paused to dab at her eyes.

“He had seven Horcruxes, you said? So there was one left?”

She shook her head. “Two, although we didn't know that at the time. We went to find the seventh, a snake called Nagini, but couldn't reach it before Harry realized that he was the last Horcrux.” All the warmth that Sirius had gained from the feeling of her hand between his drained away. “Either he or Voldemort had to die, and Harry has such a hero complex, he leapt at the chance to sacrifice himself for the good of everyone.” The weak laugh in her voice did nothing to stop the fresh tears that ran down her cheeks. “While he was being a martyr, Neville killed Nagini. Chopped her head off. It was very impressive.” Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Hermione straightened in her chair. “Harry let Voldemort kill him. Apparently, Harry had the choice to die completely or live without Voldemort’s soul in his head. 

“He chose to come back, although everyone thought he was dead. Then the two of them fought again. But this time, both were mortal. Harry won, and Tom Marvolo Riddle finally died. The war was over.” 

The two of them sat and watched the fire for a few minutes, until Sirius softly asked, “What aren't you saying?” 

She sighed, and her expression darkened as her eyes closed. “It was war. Not everyone made it.” Sirius waited. After a minute, she rubbed her brow and turned to face him. “You want the blunt version, don't you?” Dread gnawing in his chest, he nodded once. She pursed her lips as she took the box of tissues and held it so that he could reach it easily. Her voice was quiet, but each name hit Sirius like a Killing Curse. “Severus Snape. Peter Pettigrew. Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Lupin. Ted Tonks. Bellatrix Lestrange.” 

Sirius began shaking his head, fighting tears. “No. Rem— No. He can’t—” His voice gave out completely as he sobbed. The glass of Butterbeer fell to the ground and shattered while he folded in on himself, hands clutching at his heart. Faintly, he felt Hermione lean against him, her arm snaking over his back, but that was so much less real than the pain in his chest. He couldn't tell how long they sat there, only realizing once the wracking sobs had started to fade that the fire was edged by ash. 

“He had a son.” Hermione’s voice was thick, but he couldn’t look at her, could barely move. “Edward Remus. We call him Teddy.” As she sniffled, Sirius felt some of the pain begin to drain away. “Lupin made Harry the godfather. Teddy lives with Andromeda, but Harry and Ginny see him so often that he’s practically a Potter.” She began to move her hand in circles on his back, turning her head so that her forehead was against his shoulder. “He’s happy. He’s happy.” Her words were a promise, and Sirius latched on to it, closing off everything else and ignoring the pain. He pictured a miniature Remus, maybe with Andromeda’s hair, running and laughing and living. But he couldn't smile, not yet. As the fire continued to shrink, the two of them sat in silence. 

After an eternity, Hermione spoke. “Do you think you could go back to Godric’s Hollow with me? Harry and the others are probably worried, and we need to find somewhere for you to stay.”

When Sirius finally responded, his voice was a croak. “Alright.” 

“Or I can send an owl to them, and maybe you could stay here tonight, although I’m not sure Neville would like that…” Eyes closed, Sirius slowly shook his head. Going to Godric’s Hollow meant seeing their house. Despite everything he had heard tonight, he still needed to see it. Needed to see that this wasn't a dream. Hermione sighed, and Sirius could hear the edge of a growl in the sound. “Godric’s Hollow?” He nodded. After tightening her grip on him for a moment, she let go. Sirius didn’t feel cold without her. He didn't feel anything. He simply sat there as he listened to her clean up the Butterbeer and levitate the now-repaired glass with its fellows back to the bar. When she gently touched his shoulder, he stood and took the leather jacket she offered him, following her back into the alley they had Apparated into. Taking her hand again, he closed his eyes against the disorientation, leaning on her once they arrived in the now-empty street. 

He opened his eyes to see James and Lily’s house, and drifted closer to it. When he was almost at the gate, he felt something under his feet and looked down. There was a plaque set in the ground, summarizing what had happened, but it was covered with graffiti. 

Hermione chuckled next to him. “I forgot about that.” Sirius knelt down to see the words in the dark. “I still think it’s disrespectful, but Harry likes it. He won't let anyone clean it off.” Standing again, he stared at the cottage. Hermione stepped away from him and he let go of her hand. “If the others are still here, they'll be at the church. I assume you want to pay your respects?” Taking his silence as an answer, she turned toward the church. “I’ll go explain to the others. Try and join us when you’re ready.” 

Sirius stayed where he stood until he couldn't hear her footsteps any longer, then slowly but steadily walked to the house. As he passed the place where, half a day ago, he had seen James lying there with his eyes open and glasses askew, Sirius had to lean against the wall, feeling as though he’d been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx. When his legs felt stronger, he continued up the stairs, trailing his hand along the railing. The roof had been blown off, and Sirius remembered that the smell of burned wood had been so strong he could taste it. Tearing his eyes from the stars, he turned to the nursery. Determinedly, he kept his eyes trained on the shattered remains of the crib, not looking at where Lily had lain until he reached the spot. He knelt reverently and gently pressed his fingers to the carpet. Bowing his head, he didn't move for several minutes, then, after one last glance at where he had found Harry, silently left.

The streets were empty, and the church was dark. As Sirius approached the silent building, he heard arguing coming from the cemetery behind it. Pushing open the gate, he recognized Hermione’s voice as he neared them.

“… nd no, Ronald, I am not, in fact blinded by grief, or rage, or whatever else you’ll try to use as an excuse to ignore the fact that I’m right and you. are. wrong!” A man’s voice began talking over her that Sirius vaguely remembered from just after he arrived here.

“Oh, no, of course you’re not blind, you never are, are you? Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, the only one who sees the truth, and heaven help anyone who dares question her!” Rounding a corner, Sirius stopped and watched them. The man she was arguing with was the redhead who had been standing earlier with Jame— No, with Harry and his wife, Ginny, who Sirius saw now, standing a few feet away from their friends. Now that he could see them more clearly, illuminated by a few floating spheres of light circling Hermione and Ron, he could see that while Harry did look painfully like James, his face was a little softer, more like Lily’s, and he had her eyes, too. Ginny’s hair was just like Lily’s, but her face was more square; she was still beautiful, but while Lily had always made Sirius think of her namesake, Ginny looked like a pure tiger, through and through. Looking at her, Sirius could easily believe that this was a woman who had fought off You-Know-Who’s influence when she was only eleven.

The new Potters stepped in, now, pulling apart the other two. As Ginny and the man faced each other, the family resemblance was obvious. She yelled at him, and it almost sounded like a roar. “Ron, stop it! If Hermione says he isn't dangerous, then he isn’t!”

“Please, she falls for every tall, dark, and broody that comes her way!” He roared back. “Just look at Krum!” As Hermione threw her hands in the air and turned away from the other three, Harry rounded on Ron.

“Enough! How you feel about her has nothing to do with this. What matters is her judgement, and even if you've forgotten that she’s half the reason you and I are alive, I still trust her!”

“Of course I trust her, but how can you trust him? He’s a murderer!”

“No, he’s **not** , Ronald!” Hermione stormed over to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Peter killed those Muggles, not Sirius!”

Ron exploded. “My father **warned** me about him!”

“Your father was wrong!” As soon as she said it, Hermione closed her eyes and seemed to regret the words.

“So he was a liar, now?” Ron was quieter now, but no less angry.

“He didn't have all the information.” Hermione spoke even more quietly than Ron had, not meeting his gaze. Glancing over, Sirius could see tears in both redheads’ eyes, and Harry moved over to comfort his wife, leaving Hermione to stand alone in front of the group. Ron didn't say anything, but the venom in his expression made Sirius straighten against the ice creeping in his gut. 

Sirius cleared his throat, and all four heads whipped toward him. Hermione took half a step toward him, and if anything, Ron’s expression soured that much more. Although Sirius didn't take his eyes off of Ron’s until he was standing next to Hermione, he tried to look harmless. Nodding to Harry and Ginny, he put his hands in his pockets and slouched a little, knowing that it would make him seem more casual than he felt. 

After a few tense seconds, Harry relaxed and nodded back, although he still looked a little uncomfortable. “So, we were just discussing where would be the best place for you to stay.”

“As far as the Ministry is concerned, you’re still a fugitive.” Ginny met his eyes easily and elbowed Ron as she continued, “Even though you were framed. Not many people remember you, but if anyone did recognize you, the Ministry would throw you in Azkaban before you could blink.”

“Ginny and I think you should stay with us, but Hermione and Ron don't think that would be a good idea.”

“Of course it wouldn't be a good idea, letting him int—” Ginny’s silencing charm hit Ron square on his Adam’s Apple, and he continued to mouth words for at least another half sentence before realizing.

“I live in Muggle London, so no one would recognize you, and I have a guest room sitting empty.” Hermione shook her head. “I don't see why he can’t stay with me.”

Ron started to silently rant again, gesticulating widely enough that he almost hit Ginny, who rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. Hermione is just as capable of defending herself as I am.” When he glared at her, she glared back. “Don’t make me hex you.”

Regarding Sirius thoughtfully, Harry tilted his head. “What do you think?”

As he looked at Harry, Sirius felt a wave of disorientation sweep over him, seeing James’ face, but Lily’s eyes. He shook his head as his eyes fell shut, swallowing over the lump in his throat. “I don't know. I’m tired.” 

Seeming to understand some of the meaning behind Sirius’ words, Harry nodded. “Hermione’s right. For tonight, you should stay with her.” Although the two siblings both looked at Harry questioningly, Ginny’s expression seemed to wonder at his reasoning, while Ron’s wondered at his sanity. “If we don’t want anyone to be suspicious, you and I should go to the Burrow, like we planned,” Harry said, looking at his wife. “We’ll say that Hermione was tired and wanted to go home. Hermione said she told Neville and Hannah that you were my cousin,” He lifted his head to face Sirius, “So tonight, maybe we’ll drop a hint or two about that to buy some time.”

“Time?” Although he had no trouble keeping his eyes open, Sirius felt so exhausted that even the one word was an effort.

Harry nodded. “Well, we’ll have to clear your name eventually, but finding a lawyer to defend you will be murder, not to mention a judge or jury that’ll even listen. Having some time to prepare without the _Prophet_ and the Ministry crawling all over us could really make the difference.” As Sirius rubbed his eyes, Harry pulled out an old, dented pocketwatch. “It’s nearly midnight. We should go.” 

Hermione walked further into the graveyard as the other three headed the other way, Ron still arguing soundlessly. Pulling out a small, metal object, Ron clicked it and the lights disappeared. Harry then Disapparated with a small _pop_. When Ron made no move to follow him, Ginny rolled her eyes, grabbed his arm, and Disapparated both of them. When Sirius turned back to Hermione, she waved him over. She was standing in front of a headstone, and once Sirius was a few feet away, he read the names James and Lily Potter. Engraved just underneath them were their birthdays and October 31, 1996. An inscription near the bottom read ‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death’. Distantly, he felt Hermione slip her hand into his, but she made no move to Apparate them.

Hanging his head as fatigue permeated his body, he shifted a little closer to her. “Thank you.” The two of them stood in silence until he tugged at her hand and nodded when she looked up at him. When he opened his eyes again, the two of them were in an alley, and Hermione led him down the block to an apartment building. “You live here?”

Leading him up the stairs, she smiled at him. “I find it more peaceful in Muggle London. There are problems here, but they seem simpler than the ones we deal with. Besides,” As they reached her door and she unlocked it with a key, “The others don't actually know this, but I have almost as many charms on this flat as Hogwarts.” She opened the door and waved him in to a modestly sized flat, with a small kitchen just past a counter set with barstools, directly in front of the two of them. To the left was a living area, with bookshelves filling the walls, and Sirius could see a hallway next to the kitchen. “Muggle-Repelling, Anti-Apparition, Imperturbable, Unplottable, Anti-Unlocking on the door as well as Illegibilus, Intruder Charms, Concealing Charms, _cave inimicum_ , et cetera, et cetera. Basically everything I could think of.” 

Taking off her coat and gloves, she tucked them into small alcoves set into the wall to their right. After a moment, Sirius took off the leather jacket and handed it to her. “Hmm. I’ll send this back to Neville in the morning. And, best of all,” she turned back to Sirius with a conspiratorial smile he normally would have found infectious, “The bookshelves are infinite!” After pulling off her boots, she swept further in, calling over her shoulder, “Just put your shoes by the door; I’ll check that the guest room’s ready!” Leaning against the door to undo his laces, Sirius had to fight the weary temptation to stay there forever. “Also, Muggles can’t hear anything that happens here, and the only way to hear what’s going on out there is to open a window.” Her voice was faint, coming from the other side of the flat. Indistinctly, he could hear her saying something about a blanket as he stumbled towards her. She went into a small closet at the front of the hall as he approached and came out with a folded quilt. “Bathroom’s there,” Gesturing to a door on the right, “My room’s across from it, and you’ll be here.” The door at the end of the hall was already open. Hermione entered and spread the blanket on the bed while Sirius followed. “I know you’re tired, so I’ll leave you to it.” As she walked past him, she hesitated. “I think you should know, I’m going to lock my door. I truly don’t think you’ll do anything, but the boys will never let me live it down if I don’t.” She chuckled weakly. “I argue with them about so many things already, I’m not sure I could handle anything more.” All Sirius could do was nod blankly, trying not to fall flat on his face. She paused a moment, waiting for a response, then exited the room and closed the door behind her. The last thing Sirius remembered from that night was collapsing onto the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this chapter is ridiculously long, but I wanted to establish early on some of what I changed and what was still canon; mostly that I moved the timeline up so that I could use modern clothes and songs. This was originally going to be from Hermione's perspective, but I decided that Sirius' would be better. Hopefully I did a good job of portraying his reactions! I started a board of headcanons that I'm using for this, which I'll update as I go, but if you don't want to look, or if you're busy, the most important things to know are that Ben Barnes is and always will be my canon young!Sirius (sorry, Rowling, your majesty, I know he doesn't look like your description, but *swoons*), POC Hermione (which won't change the story at all, I just love the fanart), and wizard robes look more like victorian clothes than anything else (movies, you did a good job overall, but why would anyone need tailor-made circus tents?). Also, Sirius is a dapper bilingual genius (because I love him/this story too much not to). If you have any questions or if you notice something I misspelled or remembered wrong, please let me know! My tumblr is my-ocs-are-cooler-than-yours, (don't you mock me), but I don't check it often, so it might take a few days for me to get back to you. Here's the board and thanks for reading! https://www.pinterest.com/GypsyJynx/sirius-headcanons/
> 
> P.S. does anyone know what this pairing is called? I've been calling them Sirmione in my head, but I'm not sure I like that name.


	3. I Know I'm the One You Want to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After advising Sirius, Luna decides to help redecorate Hermione's apartment.

The walls were the wrong colour. They weren’t the red and gold he had woken to until sixth year, not the warm browns of the Potter’s, nor the hospital off-white that he’d never gotten around to repainting. The light blue that surrounded him was new, and Sirius was sure that he’d never seen anything like the radish-and-thestral quilt he was laying on. How had h— Hermione. She’d brought him here late last night, after telling him…

Nausea rose in his throat and Sirius had to bolt out of the room, nearly sideways as he turned and threw open the bathroom door. It was mainly just bile, but he continued to retch for several minutes, crouching on the tile, hair falling in his face. He was shaking as he leaned back onto his knees, swarmed with images of his friends: Remus, lying in a pool of blood during one of his transformations; James, cold and still in the home he’d built for himself; Lily, unmoving eyes accusatory, asking why Sirius had let them die; Peter, wand pointed at Sirius, looking simultaneously terrified and defiant. 

Then other memories crept in: Remus’ exasperated smile as Sirius whined about having to trim his hair; James dangling upside down in the common room as they practiced casting _levicorpus_ , red-faced and grinning as they laughed at him; Lily’s mischievous laugh as she led a blindfolded Sirius to his birthday present, _No, don’t be silly, of course it’s not a motorcycle, why on earth would you think that?_ ; Peter’s determined little round face, red as he stood with them against Avery and Mulciber. The memories blended together until Sirius could barely tell happy from angry from heartbreaking.

It was hours before Sirius could move beyond leaning over the water and sitting down again after he finished heaving. He stood against the sink, leaning on it as he rinsed out his mouth and scrubbed his hair with some shampoo from the shower. The door was still open. Sirius half expected Hermione to peek in, asking how he was. Once he thought over how the last few hours must have sounded, he was surprised that she hadn't already. Despite that, he was glad she hadn’t. Although he was still where he stood, Sirius felt… loose. Weak, off-balance, like a puppet with his strings cut. 

Cautiously, he went to the hallway. He couldn't see Hermione, but he could hear pages turning in the living area. As he approached, he frowned. No one was in the room. A small noise tugged his attention down to see a thin woman with a long, dirty-blonde plait and a distinctly eccentric outfit smiling owlishly at him while she laid on the floor in front of the sofa.

“Oh, good, you’re up.” Her voice was high, with a slight lilt as she stood languidly. Grey eyes blinked slowly as she extended a hand to him. “I’m Luna. Hermione had to go to work, so she asked me to come over.” Even with how strange the entire situation was, Sirius let old habits kick in, raising her hand to his lips and ghosting a kiss over the knuckles. She didn't react, instead fixing her gaze on thin air above his head as he dropped her hand. “You know there are Wrackspurts all over the flat? I told Hermione to check every now and then, but she never does.” 

He wasn't sure how to respond, but she didn't seem to expect anything; she simply glided around him to the kitchen. Trying to keep her in sight, Sirius pivoted to see a glass of water and plate of crackers waiting on the counter. She bustled around the tiny space as he sat, facing her. “…So, where does Hermione work?”

As she answered, he took a bite of the crackers. They were dry, but with the water they were palatable. “At the Ministry. She’s in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which sounds terrible, but it’s really much better now.” After mixing a pile of tea leaves into a kettle, she placed it on a burner and sat across from Sirius. “That’s why she had to leave. She’s working on a bill that would make life much easier for centaurs, but someone she called a ‘misogynistic, arrogant, speciesist’ almost ruined it.”

Sirius almost choked on a cracker. “Is that usual?” 

While he gulped down water, she smiled vaguely. “The insults? Only when they deserve it and she’s angry. Or maybe the ruining? That happens quite a lot, too.” Sadly, she propped her chin on her hand. “Some wizards and witches don't much like her work.”

Despite how misty her eyes were, Sirius felt that he was being sized up. Shifting in his seat, he avoided her gaze until the crackers were gone. “How much did she tell you?” As he met her eyes, expecting confusion or suspicion, he saw neither, only understanding.

“She told me that you were a friend of Harry’s, and that you’d lost two friends last night.”

“Three.” The word had come unbidden, ripped from his throat as he closed his eyes, remembering all the times people had assumed Lily was the fifth wheel of the group. She’d been just as dear to him as James, and almost more than Peter and Remus. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Sirius exhaled roughly, burying his hands in his hair and hiding behind them. “I can’t.” He gave a harsh, barking laugh as he roughly wiped his cheeks. “How can I— How can— How?”

“Live.” When he looked, he saw her regarding him steadily as she spoke. “Wake up, eat, work or read or whatever, eat, sleep. When you see a flower or a sunset, smile. When someone makes a joke, laugh. Remember the good times and how lucky you were to have them, but don’t ignore everything else. You can’t live in a memory, but life without memory is empty.” Her eyes weren’t misty now, but the intelligence and sympathy in them surprised him. As tears gathered in his eyes, Sirius nodded, unable to respond. She smiled. “Would you like something to do? Maybe music? I think Hermione has a—”

Chuckling, Sirius cut her off, voice thick. “No. I’m rubbish with music. I’ve a fair voice, better than Remus’ at any rate, but James was the musical one.” He hesitated, but his fingers had begun to twitch. “Do you think… think I could draw?” As soon as he had thought of it, he’d suddenly _needed_ to hold a pencil, a pen, chalk, anything, as long as he could let the pain bleed out through the lines, the way he had at the Potter’s. 

Luna hummed thoughtfully. “That’ll be difficult. I’m not sure Hermione even has spare paper around.” She looked at him suddenly, shrewdly. “Go and see if you can find any pencils in the guest room.” Nodding, he padded down the hall to his room, but, although he looked in every drawer, even under the bed, there was nothing. As he walked back to the blonde, his words died in his throat, forgotten when he saw that she had gotten rid of the bookcases in the corner somehow, and was currently waving her wand over the two dark grey walls as they rippled. 

He laid his hand on the wall next to the door cautiously, and felt the familiar texture. “Paper?”

She nodded dreamily. “I told you, she doesn't have any around. What colours would you like?” Sirius followed her gesture to the table and saw a neat rainbow of charcoals. 

Running his fingers over the table, Sirius began to see sun-dappled leaves, shadows on water, just waiting for him to bring them into the light. “Could you make a few more greens and browns?” As she turned away from the wall, Sirius moved toward it, inky charcoal he barely remembered picking up raised in his hand. Somehow Luna had managed to find the perfect grain and weight of paper that had always eluded Sirius, and the charcoal glided over the surface while faint clattering came from the kitchen. 

Vertical lines formed on the grey, then swooped into roots and branches. As Sirius worked, as always, the image in his mind expanded to include things he never expected; flowers, a creek, a shadowed space where something would stand. Luna had coloured the forest with muted vibrancy while he had prepared the other wall, and while she worked on that, he now stood in front of the dark, peaceful, empty spot. It needed something… He turned to the charcoal strewn over the table and noticed a dark brown. Smiling sadly at the pang in his chest, he picked it up and carefully traced two shapes in the glen. As he worked, exchanging the brown for a lighter tan or black occasionally, the figures became more distinct, and eventually, a stag and doe faced each other. James looked just as Sirius remembered him, and although he’d never seen Lily as a doe, he’d seen her Patronus enough times to draw it. 

Continuing that thought, he chose a soft grey and began to sketch another Patronus, a wolf, lying in front of the two deer. A dusky hand gently touched the doe’s side, and Sirius jumped.

Hermione didn’t react other than dropping her hand, still taking in the mural with wide eyes and a soft expression. “You… you did all this?” 

Her voice was low, and Sirius brushed his hair out of his face nervously. “I’m sorry about the room, I didn’t mean to—”

Waving off his concerns, she turned away from him. “No, this looks more like your work, Luna.” She sounded amused, but Sirius couldn't relax. While he felt like a sixteen-year-old again, Luna smiled beatifically at her friend. Belatedly, Sirius realized that after she coloured in a sunlit clearing by the creek, she’d added a few animals of her own. There was an otter playing in the water while a small dog, Sirius thought it might have been a terrier of some kind, watched it. A small horse in the same colours as the terrier watched the dog while a hare sat between the horse and otter. Finally, next to the horse stood another stag, almost identical to James, looking across the corner to the two deer. Sirius’s art had always been impressionistic, small details jumping out from the broad, fluid strokes, but Luna’s style was so real that he had to keep himself from touching the otter’s fur to see how it felt.

As he compared the two walls, he rubbed his hand over his mouth, suddenly seeing how the doe’s ears were slightly misshapen, the stag’s antlers were lopsided, the wolf was too small for the perspective. Luna and Hermione were bickering good-naturedly as they moved to the door, and Luna waved cheerfully to Sirius as she left.

“I’m sorry I had to leave, but I swear, I really didn't have a choice.” Her expression was so earnest that Sirius had to smile, despite his nerves, as he shook his head.

“It’s all right, I’m the one who’s intruding.” Although she looked as though she wanted to deny that, she stayed silent. After a few awkward seconds, Sirius moved to Luna’s wall and gestured to the animals. “Does she always do this?”

“Use my entire cutlery drawer for her entertainment? Variations on that, yes, but if you mean these…” She stood next to him as they admired the scene. “She must have seen what you were doing.” At his questioning glance, she smiled faintly and gestured to his three figures. “They’re James’, Lily’s, and Remus’ Patronuses, aren't they?” When he nodded, she stepped to the other wall, motioning to each mammal as she named them. “The stag is Harry, like his father; the horse is Ginny; the terrier is Ron; the hare is Luna; and the otter is mine.” An image of a tiny fawn prancing around with James’ huge stag popped into Sirius’ head, and he began to chuckle. “What?”

He was laughing harder now, but Sirius managed, between laughs, to choke out “Used to… Harry… Bambi!” She began to laugh, too, and the two of them stayed there for several minutes before Sirius’ rumbling stomach interrupted them. 

Still smiling, Hermione sighed. “I guess we should do something for dinner.” Glancing at the charcoals still on the table, she added, “Seeing as my silverware won’t be much use, how about we go out? There are some good restaurants near here.” 

Hesitantly, Sirius nodded. “That would be nice.”

As she responded, Hermione ran her hands over her robes and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Perhaps half an hour or so to freshen up? You can take the shower.”

Flushing as he realized he must look horrible and smell worse, he nodded and fairly ran to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. A motion in the mirror caught his eye and he stood in front of it. His face and hands were smeared with charcoal, tan and grey dusting his hair, and his clothes looked shockingly like he’d gotten in a street fight, then spilled Butterbeer all over himself, before spending hours crouched in front of a wall. Shaking his head, Sirius knew that Hermione didn't deserve to deal with him. As he noticed the bags under his eyes, he decided that he would do his best to make things easier on her. He had already intruded on her life, and he couldn't fix that, but he could be gentlemanly, helpful, and try, at least, to be unobtrusive. He could try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written Luna before (or any of these characters, but whatever) so I hope I did okay! I'll give a little more info in the next chapter, but I think she'll be in the story a few more times. I realized earlier today that I forgot to include Ron using the Deluminator in the last chapter, so sorry if you got a ton of notices, but I couldn't figure out how to fix it at first. Also, happy belated birthday to Neville and Harry!
> 
> P.S. Does anyone know if there's a good way to set up a poll on AO3 or tumblr?


	4. Cue All the Love to Leave My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione takes Sirius out to dinner. It doesn't go well.

Hermione stifled a yawn as she unlocked the door. Last night had been difficult, and she hadn't slept well once she had come home. And then that— … _man_ … had rallied the old families against her bill. She’d spent twenty minutes sending owls back and forth until conceding that she had to leave. 

Pushing open the door, she stopped. She had always thought her front room was cozy, if a bit plain, but now she looked onto a forest, which seemed slightly forbidden. She moved closer as she tried to see over Luna’s shoulder. As per usual, the blonde had filled her area with vivid animals that almost seemed to breathe. But the other wall… there were two deer standing in the shadows, almost touching noses as they stood next to Sirius. The figures didn't have the same level of detail as Luna’s creations, but the light shining on their fur and the love that had gone into the strokes were compelling in a way that Hermione couldn't describe. Almost without thinking, she raised her hand and lightly brushed the doe’s side. 

Sirius jumped aside, but Hermione was still lost in the forest and could only form one coherent thought. “You… you did all this?” For a moment, Hermione wasn't sure if he had heard her; she had barely spoken audibly.

Faintly, she realized that he was almost shaking as he spoke. “I’m sorry about the room, I didn't mean to—” 

In an attempt to comfort him, Hermione waved a hand vaguely in his direction and turned to her friend. “No, this looks more like your work, Luna.” Despite trying to be stern, Hermione felt the corner of her mouth quirk up as Luna smiled at her. 

The blonde moved smoothly past the coffee table and quipped, “Leave any evidence when you ripped apart the bonehead?” The table was completely covered with chalk or something. Hermione glanced to the kitchen, confirming that her cutlery drawer was lying on the counter, open and empty.

She snorted. “Believe me, he was not worth my time, nor your insults.”

With an amused hum, Luna smiled thoughtfully. “A rare specimen, indeed.”

“Thank you for coming again. I couldn't leave him alone.” The two women glanced together at Sirius as he smeared charcoal across his face, looking uncharacteristically worried.

“He’s very sad, you know.”

Hermione nodded. “I know.” After watching him for a few more moments, Hermione realized Luna was smiling at her knowingly. 

“He’s much more handsome than his picture in _A History of Magic_.” Luna whispered mischievously, and waved at Sirius as she opened the door and left. 

Pushing Luna’s odd statement out of her mind, Hermione turned back to Sirius apologetically. “I’m sorry I had to leave, but I swear, I really didn't have a choice.” 

He smiled, shaking his head. “It’s all right, I’m the one who’s intruding.” His face was still covered in charcoal, but even so, Hermione had to suppress a blush. After a few heartbeats, Sirius motioned to the wall of Patronuses. “Does she always do this?”

Hermione smirked. “Use my entire cutlery drawer for her entertainment?” A few dozen similar incidents flashed through Hermione’s mind as she walked up to Sirius. “Variations on that, yes, but if you mean these… She must have seen what you were doing.” Sirius raised an eyebrow inquisitively as he looked over at her. She smiled. “They’re James’, Lily’s, and Remus’ Patronuses, aren't they?” Seeming taken aback, he nodded. Moving up to the other wall, she pointed at the animals as she spoke. “The stag is Harry, like his father; the horse is Ginny; the terrier is Ron; the hare is Luna; and the otter is mine.” Remembering DA meetings, Hermione smiled as Sirius began to chuckle. “What?”

Hardly able to speak from laughing, he managed a strangled, “Used to... Harry... Bambi!” An image of Bambi, with Harry's scar above emerald eyes, bouncing around in Gryffindor robes sprang to Hermione's mind, and she laughed with Sirius until his stomach growled loudly.

With a sigh, she smiled fondly up at the grinning face, glad she could cheer him up a little. “I guess we should do something for dinner. Seeing as my silverware won't be much use,” Glancing at the table, she silently added, _Thank you, Luna_. “How about we go out? There are some good restaurants near here.”

Eyes distant for a moment, Sirius agreed. “That would be nice.”

Hermione absently smoothed out a few wrinkles she could feel on her skirts and realized her hair was a mess. Trapping a flyaway strand behind her ear, she realized that while Sirius did look annoyingly attractive even with charcoal all over him, most of the places nearby wouldn't let him look at the sign too long, let alone have a full meal inside. Her either, when she thought about it. “Perhaps half an hour or so to freshen up? You can take the shower.” 

As his face reddened, he nodded and fled to the bathroom. Hermione stood, stunned, for a minute or so. Wondering absently if she had offended him, she said aloud, “He's not that vain, is he?” After a few more seconds, she shook her head sharply and went to change clothes in her room. When she emerged fifteen minutes later, she was wearing a black Muggle dress. The hem was slightly higher than she was comfortable with unless she was on a date, but the sheer pantyhose she wore underneath it helped. She tugged the left sleeve of her blue jacket down as she listened; Sirius was still in the shower. As wandered out to the living area, she thought over which restaurant would be best. 

The sight of the mural broke her out of her thoughts. Now that she was closer, being careful not to touch it, she noticed that James' and Lily's eyes were exactly right, and, as she glanced over, she saw that Luna had made sure Harry's eyes were right, too. The stag looked like an hybrid of the two deer Sirius had drawn; fur just like James', eyes like Lily's, although the antlers were just slightly different, more closed. Luna's words came back to her, “ _More handsome than his picture..._ ” 

Crossing to where Luna had stashed the bookshelves behind the sofa, Hermione pulled her wand out of her jacket pocket and tapped the wood. “ _Accio 'A History of Magic'_.” The opening of the miniaturized shelf was exactly the right size for the thick book that presented itself, and Hermione smiled. Patting the top of the bookcase, she decided to leave it that size for the next few days, just to try it out. As she moved to the counter, she opened the book and flipped to the section on the First Wizarding War. Touching the Potter's pages sadly, and frowning at the picture of Peter, she smirked as she reached the picture Luna must have meant. 

Next to a picture of the scene of the murders was a sullen Sirius, hair mussed and one eye beginning to purple. He looked younger, and the caption below the photo explained that it had been taken just after he stormed out of his family's house in Grimmauld Place when he was sixteen. Apparently, his parents had covered up the incident and insisted the story not be published. According to their wishes, it hadn't been until after his mother's death; then the picture had been added to the next edition of _A History of Magic_.

The sound of water abruptly stopped. A few seconds later, Sirius' voice sounded hesitantly. “Hermione? I, um, I didn't realize till now, but... Should I wear these to dinner?” She gasped, jumping off the stool to search the sofa. “It's just that they're dirty, and I'm not sure they'd be nice enough, even clean.” Finally, tucked behind the pillows was a bundle, which Hermione quickly grabbed.

“No, it's alright, Luna brought some clothes for you. Sorry I forgot about them.” Reaching the door, she saw that Sirius was holding it open a crack, just enough for her to see hair hanging wetly near one dark eye. 

“Thank you.” As she held out the clothes, he opened the door further to take them, and Hermione glimpsed the edge of his hip before he shut the door again. She flushed, suddenly feeling awkward. Somehow she'd forgotten that there was a very nude man in her apartment. “Why does Luna have men's clothes, anyway?”

Feeling extremely grateful for the cooling charms she'd placed on the jacket, she leaned against the wall next to the door as she answered. “They're Rolf's. Oh! Right, um, Rolf is a man Luna works with, Rolf Scamander. The two of them go traipsing off all over the country looking for undiscovered creatures. Whenever they find something worth studying, if it's big, they take it to Luna's place, and if it's small, they take it to Rolf's. Invariably, they find it too interesting to waste time changing clothes at their own homes, so they started to keep spares at each other's.” Hermione knew that she was babbling, but it helped her bleed off the nervous energy. “His work clothes aren't usually too strange, although his formalwear is only rivaled by Luna's, but he is a bit shorter than you, so I'm not sure how well those will fit, but I suppose we could alter them--”

The door opened a hair, interrupting her. “Yes, I think that may be necessary.”

“Alright, well, if you just come out here--”

“That's not really possible.” He almost sounded sheepish. Hermione frowned, waiting for him to elaborate. “I can't get the trousers on.” Again, Hermione flushed, not trusting herself to speak. “But,” he cleared his throat nervously. Hermione imagined his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down and felt even more blood rush to her face. “I'm a fair hand at Transfiguration, so, if you wouldn't mind... Could I have my wand back?”

“Yes, right, obviously!” As she fumbled for her bag, tucked inside another pocket, and grabbed his wand, Hermione forcefully shut her mouth and shoved the wand through the space in the door.

As Sirius said something about needing a few minutes, she walked to the sofa and sank into it, determinedly not looking at the mural, the book on the counter, or anything else that would make her think of him. As everything facing her was thus to be avoided, and staring at the kitchen gave her a crick in her neck, this left the ceiling. 

The bathroom door creaked open, and Hermione rose quickly as footsteps approached her. When she turned around, she stifled a laugh. Although Sirius did clean up well, the tuxedo he wore was outdated enough to look more like a costume than anything else; a too-long jacket, comically short lapels, and overall it was too boxy to really be flattering.

As she looked at his wounded expression, she couldn’t help but laugh again. “I’m sorry, but I think I’ve seen my father wear a suit like that.” With a wave, she changed the wall by the kitchen into a mirror and turned Sirius to face it. “Alright, the lapels should be longer… stop! Good, but not so shiny… Alright, get rid of the white on the chest, and two of the buttons… and make the shoulders a bit rounder. Hmm… try making the buttons on your shirt white.” Hermione examined the suit closely in the mirror, nodding as she did so. 

Her eyes caught on the bowtie. “Mm, no.” Before she could think about what he might think, she had moved in front of him and was determinedly undoing the knot. His throat bobbed under her hand and she huffed. “Stop moving for a moment.” Once he was still, it seemed to only take a second before the tie was in Hermione’s hand and she was walking away. 

After setting the fabric on the counter, she turned to him and smiled. “Shall we?”

 

 

“…t’s called the Internet, and Muggles store information in it.” 

“Like a library?” Sirius’s expression was fascinated as Hermione spoke, although she chuckled at the question. A few people gave them odd looks as the two of them walked by, but most of the women looking at Sirius seemed to simply enjoy the view.

“Yes and no. You can look up almost anything, but most of the Internet is mindless entertainment, although some of it’s not bad. Here we are.” As Hermione strode to the door of _L’Étoile de la Loutre_ , Sirius raised an appraising eyebrow at the décor before slipping in front of her and opening the door with a little bow. Smiling, Hermione nodded at him before stepping to the Maître’D.

“Bonsoir, madame, monsieur, and do you have a réservation?” The roux français gave them a close-mouthed smile as he waited for their response.

“Yes, there should be a standing table for Miss Granger and guest.” As the man looked through a book on his desk, Sirius looked at Hermione questioningly, but she simply smiled and waited patiently for the man to finish. 

“Ah, oui, Mademoiselle Granger, right this way.” With a tight-lipped smile that still managed to be smarmy, the redhead led them to a small table in the back of the restaurant. 

While they walked past the other patrons, Sirius tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, hunching in on himself slightly. “Maybe we ought to have stuck with the first suit; I feel like I'm still wearing my t-shirt.” 

Hermione chuckled understandingly. “Believe me, you have nothing to worry about.” Nearing the table, she added, “If anyone here's underdressed, it's me.”

As he pulled her chair out for her, the Maître'D shook his head. “Oh, non, mademoiselle, tu es vraiment une chatte noire.”

At a sudden thud, Hermione's head whipped toward Sirius, who was holding the top of his chair white-knuckled, expression darker than she'd ever seen. Staring murderously at the Maître'D, his voice, once he spoke, was a distinctly threatening growl. Hermione glanced between the two men as Sirius spoke in French, watching as the redhead grew pale, then began to resemble a fish dangling from a hook. Sirius had spoken fluently, and Hermione wasn't able to catch more than a few words, mostly pronouns, but his tone... He had almost sounded like Malfoy on a tear, or Harry to Lupin, back in Shell Cottage. 

The Maître'D scurried off, and Sirius came around the table to push Hermione's chair in for her. Although his knuckles were still white, and his jaw was clenched tightly enough that veins in his neck stood starkly out, his deliberate movements were gentle as he scooted her chair in, walked around the table, and sat down. Warily, Hermione tilted her head to one side. “What did he say?”

He met her eyes cautiously, brow furrowed. “You don't speak French?”

“I know the tourist phrases, but beyond those and the bits everyone knows, I don't understand much. I thought he called me a cat?”

Clenching his jaw again, Sirius inhaled and exhaled deeply before answering. “He did. But calling someone a female cat would be the French equivalent to calling someone a female dog in English.”

For a moment, Hermione was simply puzzled. Then, as she understood, she felt her face heat as she had to remind herself why it would be a bad idea to transfigure that man into a cockroach. “Thank you. I hope you called him suitably nasty in response?”

Looking sheepish for a moment, Sirius admitted, “I think I called him pathetic pond scum.”

Hermione nodded decisively. “Good.” While Sirius opened the menu, she locked eyes with a waiter and waved him over.

“What are you having?” 

Hermione blinked at Sirius as he waited patiently for her response. “I usually have the bouillabaisse. It’s very good.”

“You should have the Sole Meunière.” His tone was quiet, but confident.

Hermione narrowed her eyes playfully. “I’m not entirely sure I trust you with my food.” She held her breath as she realized he might take it the wrong way, but he started laughing before she could rescind what she’d said.

“Quite right! Constant vigilance!” Hermione’s heart dropped. As Sirius gave the waiter their orders, adding a bottle of Sancerre, she stayed silent. He glanced at her uncertainly every few seconds, but said nothing until the waiter left. Trying to school her expression, she knew she was having about as much luck as Sirius, who looked like he’d accidentally insulted her family. “Hermione? Did I—”

“No.” The word came unbidden, ripped from Hermione’s throat. She closed her eyes and tried to calm down. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” When she opened her eyes, he was watching her cautiously, not as panicked now, but still worried. As she took a deep, slightly shaking breath, she met his gaze steadily. His expression cleared into faint dread, but he waited for her to speak. “Mad-Eye didn't make it.”

It took a few seconds for the information to sink in, and Hermione watched as he first looked confused, then horrified, then clenched his jaw in an expression almost as dark as the one he’d given the Maître’D. A sommelière came to the table and filled their glasses with white wine; Sirius didn't react, keeping his eyes firmly on the candle flame. After the woman left, he said, in a casually conversational tone, without changing his expression, “At the moment, I’m rather glad that You-Know-Who is dead.” Delicately, he picked up his glass and sipped it.

Quietly, unsure she wasn't worsening the situation, Hermione asked, “Why?”

“Because,” Sirius set down the Riesling glass before continuing. “If he was still alive, you would be rather hard-pressed to keep me from killing him myself.” Hermione swallowed, recognizing the deadly serious look, and glanced down to his hands. Both were clenched tightly enough that they appeared almost completely bloodless, although those and his jaw were the only outward signs of tension. 

The two of them sat in strained silence until their dishes came. By then, Sirius had relaxed fractionally, and even more as they began eating. “I’m glad you recommended this; it’s delicious.” The simple sentence had taken Hermione nearly three minutes to formulate, as she couldn't think of anything else to say.

Sirius met her gaze briefly, eyes still shadowed, but then lowered them to his plate again. She almost didn't hear him when he responded, “I’m glad you like it.” 

Smiling, Hermione returned to her food. The rest of the evening was uneventful, passing mostly in silence, although Hermione did chuckle when the Maître’D scurried away from them as they left. As they neared her building, she spoke. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Harry and Ginny are coming over tomorrow, mid-morning, to discuss our next steps.” Although the man walking next to her nodded, he gave no other reaction. “If you’d rather not see them, they won’t mind. It’s up to you.” Hermione watched him carefully, but Sirius simply nodded again, not meeting her eyes. As they went inside, he continued to avoid her gaze until she was about to go into her bedroom.

“Hermione?” When she looked at him, he seemed stiff and tired, but predominantly rueful. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a horrible guest tonight, and I promise I’ll clean the walls tomorrow—”

“I accept your apology. Good night, Sirius.” As she shut the door on Sirius’ stricken expression, she slumped, and was barely able to muster the energy to change before she climbed into her bed and willed herself asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY!! Seriously, I am so sorry this took so long, but between work, school, and writers block, I couldn't finish as soon as I wanted to. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take so long.
> 
> References are on my board, but if you'd rather not go there, here's the suit Sirius Transfigured: http://www.blacktieguide.com/History/1994-2010/3B_NL_geoffreybeene_cropped.jpg
> 
> and here's the finished look: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/1b/56/0a/1b560a46d500d889fedb5279fcbc5002.jpg


	5. It's Time for Me to Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sirius sit down and talk.

This was it. His chance. If he could reach it without her noticing— “Oi!” Harry hissed as he shook out his hand. 

“I told you, that one is mine.” Hermione plucked the caramel-drizzled muffin off of the plate, and calmly ignored Harry's glare while Ginny snickered.

Balefully, he watched her peel off the wrapper. “Well, you weren’t eating it.”

"Yes, because it's impolite to speak with your mouth full. Now, you're both more impartial than me at this point; what do you think?” Her tone was even, but her hands trembled slightly as she cut the muffin into smaller chunks, and a few crumbs scattered across the table. “Should he stay here?”

Harry looked over to Ginny as she pursed her lips into a thoughtful moue. Her fingers drummed on the table. “I think he should. It would be for him rather strange, I think, to stay with his best friends' adult son; my family would probably kill him–”

“Just because R–”

“It's not just Ron, Hermione.” Ginny's voice grew louder as she straightened to her full height. “He might be the most temperamental of my family, but I nearly hexed Sirius that night, too. Don't think for a second that if we sprang him on my family, they wouldn't attack him. Alright, maybe Charlie wouldn't, but the rest would. And if we tried to explain, they'd just assume that he _Imperiused_ us or something.” Jaw set, Ginny stared at Hermione for a moment longer before leaning back in her chair. “So that leaves you, Luna, or Neville, and you're the best suited to help him.”

The three sat in silence for close to a minute before Hermione turned to Harry. “What do you think?” Before he could answer, she continued, almost too quietly to hear, “You probably want him gone.” Indignant, Harry opened his mouth to contradict her-- and left it open as he realized he couldn't. But her tone was so defeated, her assumption so clear, that he couldn't help but speak anyway.

“I don't know. I don't know him, aside from the stories Remus used to tell us, and from looking around Grimmauld Place, I suppose. I think he's dangerous, but all three of us are, too, so that's not saying much.”

Hermione had brightened somewhat as he spoke, and Harry felt a stab of dread to see how much she cared for Black. Pulling himself out of worst-case scenarios, he focused on Hermione's words. “... should be up by now, I'm not sure why he hasn't come out yet. Maybe...” She pushed back her chair, brow furrowed, obviously thinking of checking on him.

“No.” The two women looked at Harry sharply; he winced, and wished he'd been a little quieter. “No, I'll go. You two stay here and talk about tight his trousers are or something.”

As he rose, Hermione squawked “Harry!” but, red-faced, said nothing more. A quick glance confirmed Ginny was smirking hugely, as Harry guessed she would be. While he closed the glass door, Harry saw Hermione flush even further as Ginny spoke, and thanked everything holy that he didn't have to listen to whatever she was saying. He loved his wife dearly, but her outlook was much less puritanical than his. A wordless growl, faint but distinct in the silent flat, caught his attention and drew him through the living area and down the hall. Hand hovering over his wand, he stopped just outside the guest room door and listened. Now that he was closer, he could hear every few words from the man inside: come on, work, and something beginning with rep seemed to repeat fairly often. 

In one smooth motion, Harry opened the door and stepped inside. A few things jumped out at a time, and Harry took a moment to look around. Black stood in the middle of the room, apparently having stood from his place on the bed when Harry entered; his eyes were red, and tear tracks covered half his face; his wand was clenched tightly in his right hand, the knuckles of which were bloody; he was shirtless and barefoot; shards of glass and wood littered the floor, along with splotches of blood, some dripped, some smeared into footprints; almost every piece of furniture in the room was broken in some way or another; there were fist-shaped dents in the walls, some with bloodstains beginning to dry; the only sound in the room was Black’s breathing, clearly labored. Harry ran through all the incapacitating spells he knew, then stopped. As he looked at Black, for a split second, all Harry could see was himself, standing in Dumbledore’s office, just coming to his senses and realizing how much damage he'd done. With that perspective, his decision was easy.

“…We should try and clean this up before Hermione sees.” Harry strode into the room, pulling out his wand. Black didn't move, only stared at him like he was an apparition.

A few seconds after Harry began _scourg_ ing the walls, he spoke timidly. “You... You're helping me?” 

Harry moved on to repairing the dents before he answered. “I'm helping Hermione. If she finds all this, she'll want to cover it up, and then she'll feel horrible because she's not spending as much time on her equality projects as she could be. So really, I'm helping everyone.” After a moments silence, he heard a soft chuckle.

“You have the same tell as him.” Harry stiffened slightly, but forced himself to relax as he heard the mattress creaking. “Your wand hand sort of twitched all through that story, though I'd guess it wouldn't have if you hadn't made it up on the spot.” Black's voice sounded immeasurably bittersweet, which didn't ease when he began softly siphoning the blood off the floor. 

Neither man spoke again until the room was fully repaired, and Harry, for the first time since he entered the room, let himself look at Black. He didn't meet Harry's gaze, as he was busy healing the cuts on his feet. His face was drawn, with shadows under red-rimmed eyes, but none of the unhappy lines on his face seemed to fit. If Harry had to guess, he'd have said that Black had never, or at least not recently, been miserable for any period of time; his face seemed better suited to laughing. Suddenly, Harry was struck with an image of Black setting up pranks with Ginny and George, smiling mischievously. 

Black finished healing his left hand, then stretched out his right, wincing as he did so. As he knew from experience how difficult it was to heal your wand hand, Harry silently healed it and sat next to Black, who looked at him as though he'd just sprouted horns. Or antlers, he supposed. 

Harry chuckled briefly at the thought, then sobered. “Do I look that much like him? That's always the first thing people say when they meet me.” 

Black's eyes skimmed over Harry's face before he answered, “Mostly. Your eyes are different,” Harry sighed and turned away. “James' were more round; a lot more innocent looking.” Surprised, Harry jerked to face Black, who was smiling sadly, though the expression grew fonder as his gaze shifted to the wall, though his eyes unfocused slightly. “Helped us pull off more than a few tricks our first year. None of the teachers could take his doe-eyes for long, except Mcgonagall,” his face brightened into genuine humor. “Almost all of our detentions that year were with her, even though we didn't act up nearly as much in her classes.” As he trailed off, Black regarded Harry thoughtfully. “Hermione told me you gave the Order permission to use Grimmauld place?”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to live there when I found out it was mine, but I had to wait until I was seventeen.”

Black’s brow furrowed. “Why would you want to live there? It’s horrible.”

“Well, yeah, the portrait’s a pain, but I’d still take it over the Dursleys any day.”

It took Harry a heartbeat to realize that Black had recognized the name before the other man’s expression darkened murderously. “They let you live with Petunia, with her husband?”

Speechless, Harry just stared at Black as the man gave a bestial growl and ran his right hand, still blood-stained, though his hair. Warily, Harry fingered his wand, but, in a tone more defeated than Harry had ever expected, Black spoke first.

“I’m sorry. J— Harry, I’m so sorry. I should have stayed,  I shouldn't have gone after Peter, I mean, Hagrid told me, but—”

“Wait, wait,” Harry flapped his hands a bit as he tried to understand. “What do you mean? Why should you be sorry?”

For a few seconds, long enough for Harry to wonder if he should repeat himself, Black said nothing. When he did speak, the only change in his tone was that he was more coherent. “Hagrid told me that Dumbledore planned to put you with them, but I never really thought— Well, I wasn't thinking. After seeing—” His voice broke. “Af— After finding you, all I could think was that Peter had to pay. I didn't want to give you up!” He whirled to face Harry, expression distraught. “I fought it, I swear I did, but Hagrid was so insistent that Dumbledore knew best…” His eyes dropped, but not before Harry saw how guilty Black felt. “And I thought I could always find you again after I dealt with the rat… Harry, I don't expect you to believe me, and definitely not to forgive me, but I am truly sorry. I… I can’t excuse what I did. Not when I knew.” 

Harry felt somewhat overwhelmed. He’d never expected an apology, and this grieving wreck of a man was almost unbelievable. But Harry had seen false apologies before, as well as genuine remorse, and he knew the man beside him was sincere. With a start, Harry realized that despite everything Remus had told him, he had still never questioned Hagrid’s account, that All Saint’s Day third year, never considered that maybe Black’s motives had been anything but criminal. But Black’s last words stuck out. “Knew? Knew what?” Puzzled, Harry tried to think of what he could mean. His eyes widened as he realized. “Knew what the Dursleys were like.”

As he hung his head, Black avoided Harry’s eyes. “Yes and no. I listened to Lily mourn their relationship enough times to know Petunia hadn’t been receptive to anything magical for years; for Merlin’s sake, that’s why Lily and I became friends! But I thought that if I didn't make it back, she would at least take care of you for Lily’s sake, but if you’d rather have lived in Grimmauld Place…” Black trailed off, shaking his head. “I wish things had been different.”

Harry sighed. “So do I.” The two men sat in a loaded silence for several minutes. Unsure of what Black was thinking, Harry nearly spoke several times, but the right words seemed to be just out of his reach. 

Finally, Black sighed softly. “I really need to clean that wall, don't I? Hermione must be furious.”

Despite a twinge of unease, Harry set aside how morose Black looked at the thought of an upset Hermione. “Are you joking? She loves it. She spent ten minutes raving about how much it improved the living area; she was annoyed with Luna for not asking first, but she's not mad at you.” When Black didn't react, Harry added, “Ginny and I love it too. Especially my Mum and Dad.” His voice dropped on the last sentence, but he moved on before Black could react. “We actually had a few ideas for more Patronuses you could add, if you want.” 

Immediately, Black's face brightened. “Really?” Just as suddenly, his face fell again. “But then what? I can't just keep adding to that forever.”

Harry thought. He did have something in mind, actually, but could he trust Black? “You were scorched off of your family tree. Why?” 

Black jerked to face Harry, eyes wide, but an instant later, his face fell into something much more bitter. “She'd have done that right after I left, so the immediate reason would've been that I called the two of them something like 'rot-hearted, bigoted, would-be death eaters who were too cowardly to officially join up', not to mention I tried to get Reg to come with me. But that had been building for years, so there were any number of reasons.” As he watched Harry appraisingly, Harry smiled faintly.

“I think I might know someone who would like some help. He runs a joke shop, comes up with all of his products himself, so if you have a good imagination, he might let you make a few. Or, I suppose, he might just have you duplicating his, but there's no chance of being bored with him, believe me.”

Although he looked hopeful, Black raised an eyebrow. “Who exactly would be this ambassador of goodwill?”

Harry chuckled. “His name's George. I think you'll like him.” He hesitated, then shifted to face Black fully. “He's Ron and Ginny's brother.” Alarmed, Black began to speak, but Harry cut him off. “No, I know. But you don't know them. Ron reacted the way he did because... Well, because that's what Ron does, he overreacts and refuses to admit he was wrong. But Ginny only reacted like she did because you caught her off guard. She wouldn't hurt you now unless you attacked her. George will be the same; if we let him know what to expect and explain things, he'll give you a chance.” He snorted. “He'll also hex you within an inch of your life if you give him a reason, but he'll never curse you without a reason.” 

“So why would explaining anything help?”

“Well, we’d take it slowly. First, tell him about Peter, then a few days later what Remus said, then a few days after that, introduce you.”

Black frowned. “I don't understand. I've never even met any of them before. Why do they all want to hex me?”

With a rueful smile, Harry shook his head. “Arthur Weasley, their father, worked at the Ministry of Magic. He was only in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, but he was smarter than people thought. He never bought the Ministry's idea that you'd just vaporized yourself. He thought you found some way to sneak away, that you were still at large. He'd made sure all of his older children knew your face, just in case you showed up, and he told the rest of us when we were home over Christmas third year. When we found Peter, he told us, eventually, that you were innocent, but Ron was never quite convinced, and after Mr. Weasley died, he refused to believe anything he ever said was wrong.” 

“And it's a good idea for me for me to spend time with his brother because...?”

“Because I think he can help you.” Black merely raised his eyebrows. “I've never lost anyone really close to me, not that I remember, anyway. I knew Mr. Weasley, but he was Ron's Dad, not mine. I was Fred's friend, but he was George's twin.” Silent, Black didn't move other than to avert his eyes. “I know this is hard, but that’s all I know. I don’t understand, not like George will.” Hesitantly, Black raised his watery eyes to meet Harry’s. As he saw the depth of grief there, and feeling more than a little out of his depth, Harry hurriedly smirked. “Besides, George’s gotten stiff in his old age; having someone new around’ll do him a world of good.”

Black grinned and let out a short, sharp, laugh, then extended his hand to Harry. “Mr. Potter, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

After a moment, Harry returned the smile and took his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black. And please, call me Harry.”

“If you call me Sirius.”

Harry’s smile widened. “Alright, Sirius. And, actually, Ginny and I wanted to invite you, if you want, to have lunch with us sometime. Remus,” Harry paused and tried to gauge whether Black would be uncomfortable with the topic. When Sirius didn't react other than to smile sadly, he continued. “Remus told me so much about the four of you at Hogwarts, but he didn't have enough time to tell me much. I’d be glad to hear more about my Dad, and I’d be honored to get to know his best friend.”

Sirius smiled at him, and for a moment, Harry could see the boy from the pictures in the scrapbook Hagrid gave him first year. “And I’d be honored to know his son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I added a couple of things, as you might have noticed. I needed the Golden Trio to hear Hagrid's story from PoA, so I decided that after Peter faked his death to get away from Crookshanks on Hallowe'en night, and the next day, the Trio went to Hogsmeade and overheard the teachers toasting the end of Voldemort. Also, 'cause I know it's kind of a big deal, this Sirius won't be confusing Harry and James as much. Right now he's a little off balance, what with the time travel, but he is not and he won't be nearly as unstable as he became in canon. I know it's been forever since I updated, and I have no excuse. But I will try to update more often from now on. Key word being 'try'. I apologize in advance for any future delays. Thanks for reading!


End file.
